


A Bliss of Another Kind

by Talullah



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is great and a good friend but is there more to his sacrifices than meets the eye?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bliss of Another Kind

**Author's Note:**

> A huge "thank you" to Hathaldir for being a great beta-reader and for writing the wonderful "A Jewel Among Hobbits". I don't think I would have been able to finish this had I not read it.
> 
> Some of the feelings and one happening of this story were inspired by Milan Kundera's "Unbearable Lightness of Being". Can you see where?
> 
> The title is a line from a Tori Amos song.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

**On the road to Rivendell, Third Age 3018**

"This is it." he thought, scared to death, but he still managed to exert dominion over himself and gather some composure. As soon as he saw the look of relief on Strider's face and heard his dear master say the hoof sounds were not from the Black Riders, Sam released the faintest sigh and tried to prepare himself for the next surprise. He had little hope it would be any better that the many others the last few days had held.

Whatever he felt or thought could not have prepared him for what he saw next: the rider was an elf lord, and he had the most harmonious mellowed voice he had ever heard.

Long had it been his heart's desire to meet one of the Firstborn, and indeed his wish had come true in the Old Woods; but Lord Gildor and his people, although beautiful, kind and graceful, were, in a way he couldn't quite figure, missing something this elf had.

Around him shone a white light, so very bright and yet so soft it looked like sun shining through clouds. It felt warm and welcoming, like how he expected to feel when he finally returned to the Shire, and delivered himself and Mr. Frodo from this mess. The rider was talking with Strider and Mr. Frodo now. Sam was so bedazzled that most of what was said slipped by him until he heard the glorious rider urging them to continue walking through the night.

He spoke quickly and with a harsh note on his words: "My master is sick and wounded. He can't go on ridding after nightfall. He needs rest."

The moment the words left his mouth he cursed himself for not thinking. There were so many other ways to say that without the edge. How could he have spoken so harshly, even if it was for the benefit of Mr. Frodo? The rider seized Frodo as he was falling and started to examine him while Strider acquainted him with the events of their journey.

During this conversation Sam realized the rider's name was Glorfindel. The name sounded like water running in a creek. He chastised himself for having such idle thoughts when his friend (if he dared think Mr. Frodo gave him more than absent-minded kindness) still had that dreadful, foul, thing affecting him. Mr. Frodo was his first priority, he reminded himself, and renewed in his heart the promise he had made to Lord Gildor.

Glorfindel's face darkened as he examined Frodo and declared this injury was far beyond his healing powers. It was a relief for Sam when Glorfindel decided to take Frodo on his horse, thus sparing him more strain when he was already so feeble.

They walked all night until it seemed they would never stop walking again. After a while it was increasingly difficult to keep up with Glorfindel and Frodo. Even Strider was looking exhausted. Merry and Pippin were slumbering and kept stumbling on each other and on him. He too just wanted to go asleep on his feet, but the worry for his Mr. Frodo kept him alert. That, and the contemplation of Glorfindel's back. His square, broad shoulders, his hair of a rich gold now paler in the darkness, lit only by his inner light, which was anyway the only light source on the darkest of roads. Everything about the elf was entrancing.

The sheer elegance of his riding was not hindered by the presence of another on the horse. Sam felt his stomach clench, but every time he tried to think of something else, a simple glance to the rider was enough to bring him back to this absurd awe.

"For crying out loud!" he thought to himself. They were in risk of their lives, especially Mr. Frodo, and all he could think was on the elf's perfection, and grace, and beauty and nobility.

Thinking these thoughts, he barely noticed the dawn coming, until Strider halted them and they lay down under the heath and fell asleep almost instantly.

After a few hours Glorfindel woke them up and gave them miruvor. The touch of the elf's hand still burned on Sam's shoulder when they started walking again.

They walked forever that day. Between the sheer exhaustion, the agonizing concern for his Mr. Frodo (who kept looking worse), and these strange new conflicting feelings, Sam felt like he would burst or just plain evaporate, leaving Middle-earth with absolutely no trace of his existence. After a few hours he just felt numb. And he wished he could remain numb if the alternative was that dark vortex in which he had been swirling.

By the end of the day Frodo looked grey, he noticed worriedly. He realized Strider and Glorfindel were also very preoccupied with Frodo's condition, but there was no way they could walk one step further that day.

The next morning they started walking again and after a few hours he was so overwhelmed by the strain and the fear that he felt disembodied, detached and looking down from above at their tiny bodies forcing themselves to march further on, stumbling in every rock.

Not a single thing mattered to him in the rest of Middle-earth but the two figures atop the horse. His dear master, fading by the minute, and the glowing being that was holding him, holding them all in fact, for it was him that gave them what little hope they had.

By the end of the day they entered a dark tunnel made by the canopy of pine trees. The glow emanating from Glorfindel was the only source of light and Sam came closer, as if drawn to this vision of beauty and peace. Even under the fear for their fates Glorfindel seamed a haven into which Sam felt like diving and never emerging again.

When they finally saw the light at the end of the road, they heard loud hoof sounds and Glorfindel hollered in warning. Asfaloth started to gallop, always obeying his master's voice, carrying Frodo to what Sam hoped was safety. The Black Riders followed them, loosing interest in the group, and this weighed heavily on Sam's heart. As they rose from the ground he felt a squeeze in his shoulder. He looked up, and a gentle and concerned gaze bathed him, and even in this most desperate hour Sam felt like a shroud was lifted from his soul. He almost dared to believe it was possible: that Asfaloth could indeed carry his Mr. Frodo towards safety.

They ran towards the river and as Strider and Glorfindel defended them, he too, although he knew perfectly well he was no hero, nor a match for the Dark Riders, did what he could to fight them.

* * *

**Rivendell, Third Age 3018**

After arriving the Last Homely House, deep in the valley, Sam kept to Frodo's bedside for the next few days, forgetting even his own needs. As Elrond's healing powers did their work and Frodo started to regain some colour he let Gandalf persuade him to take some rest.

After Sam slept deeply for a couple of hours, Glorfindel woke him gently. He felt like he was still in a dream as he heard the deep soft musical voice calling his name, urging him to wake. When he finally sat up on the bed and looked to Glorfindel's face through a haze, the elf took his hand and said softly:

"I am very sorry to awake you little one, but it was at your own request. I fear you would never forgive me if I had not fulfilled my promise and let you know as soon as your friend returned from the realm of dreams."

"Yes, I mean, no, of course I would forgive you, you're too kind." Sam could hardly articulate a thought or a phrase that could tell the elf what he meant and felt as he jumped off his bed and fumbled around for clothes. Glorfindel smiled and continued:

"He has been with Mithrandir, Gandalf that is, for some time now, but I felt I could not wake you before. You have done much and rested little these past few days, and I cannot begin to imagine what toll a journey such as yours could have on someone who has known before only peace and happiness."

By this time Sam was almost dressed and more awake, but was so overjoyed about the awakening of his master that he only muttered "The journey was hard but nothing compared to Mr. Frodo's torment" as he left the room, almost running.

Glorfindel followed him once again, wondering what kind of loyalty such a small creature, a perian, could harbour in his heart. So many others, greater in body and intellect could not, had not, shown a greater heart or nobler feeling. A fleeting thought of Echtelion's desertion for a wife and children pained him as if it had been yesterday, but he dismissed it, not without wincing, though.

Then Glorfindel questioned the nature of Sam's feelings: Frodo was quite handsome for a hobbit, even in sickness. Was Sam in love with him? A brief glimpse of them kissing crossed his mind, but was quickly dismissed. There was something amiss in their eyes for that. And even if he did not look so, Frodo was much older that Sam. But even if Sam's loyalty came from sexual love and not friendship, it was still noble and worthy. On the other hand, the hobbit kept blushing and stuttering around him after that first outburst on the road. No, he was being silly and vain. The poor creature was just impressed because he was a Firstborn - Glorfindel had seen that before - and their saviour of sorts and besides Sam was obviously shy. That was all there was to it. And why was he even thinking of such things, he wondered.

At dinner Sam sat at a table with Merry and Pippin, opposite Frodo who was at the main table. At Frodo's side sat Glorfindel and all night long Sam couldn't help himself but looking. Now that the worst was over he finally had time to think about all these disturbing new feelings. There was of course a huge relief and happiness for Mr. Frodo's recovery. He had always kept Frodo in high esteem and more even in these last years. Sometimes he felt almost like Frodo was a father to him, for he always had a kind, caring word and showed more than simple concern for an employee, but true friendship.

Right. Then there was the elf. It was only natural, he thought, that he would feel fascinated by elves. After all, he had grown up listening to Mr. Bilbo's stories and wanting to meet them. "But why then such a fascination with this particular elf?" a low, insidious voice kept whispering in his mind. "Because he saved us, that's why!" he kept reminding himself. "But Lord Gildor helped us too, and without Lord Elrond, Mr. Frodo wouldn't have lasted" "Shut up!!" Sam realized he was gazing at the other table and clenching the tablecloth. Merry and Pippin were already snickering and teasing him. It was no great secret in the Shire that he fancied Rosie Cotton, and they just went on and on about how feelings change and are transferred, meaning to imply that he liked Mr. Frodo "that" way, instead of Rosie.

In other circumstances he would have showed them right on the spot how they should mind their filthy tongues, despite the fact he was from a lower social stratum, but this was Elrond's house and their remarks hit closer than they could suspect. They brought more thoughts to his mind: why did he feel his stomach clench and his tongue melt when he was around Glorfindel?

After all, he was in love with Rosie and beside that, Glorfindel was a male and he had never felt thus inclined. "Until recently, that is" said the little voice, reeking malice. "No, it couldn't be!" Thoughts kept running through his head in total disarray. It was ridiculous. Even if he was not in love with Rosie, and he was, even if he liked males, and he didn't, it could never be, so he just better forget about it all and start to act normal around Glorfindel and everyone else. Why on earth would this wondrous being even look at him, let alone even think of him that way? He was the only dirty one there.

Burdened by these thoughts, Sam excused himself after dinner and escaped to the welcome loneliness of the gardens. He trailed far, and after a while sat on a stone bench. In spite of the night chill he just fell asleep there, having not fully rested from the ordeal.

Later, in his slumber, he felt enveloped in a warm embrace and carried. He did not care if it was a dream or reality, and he certainly did not care where he was taken. All he wanted or needed was these warm arms holding him and finally some rest and peace. He felt himself being laid down on cold sheets and shuddered slightly as he opened his eyes. He was back on his room and Glorfindel hovered above him.

"Forgive me master hobbit. I did not intend to disturb your rest a second time today as it is most needed." As Glorfindel spoke Sam clutched his hand, and before the elf had finished speaking, Sam had drifted off again to a deep repairing sleep.

Sam's grip was strong and needy even in his sleep so Glorfindel took pity on the hobbit and did not wake him again. Instead, he sat on the bed and eventually lay down as a welcomed and soothing reverie took hold of him.

The next morning Sam's hand still had a strong clasp on Glorfindel's as the elf woke, so he just lay there, waiting for a good time to leave. He felt the hobbit would be ashamed if he found him there, but he was still fast asleep and looked so exposed, but not as helpless as a child did asleep. No, that one had the makings of a warrior in him; he was not one for staggering, that much he had seen at the Ford of Bruinen.

Slowly Sam started waking and loosened his grip. Glorfindel quickly released himself and fled the room before, he hoped, the hobbit was fully awake.

All Sam saw was a flash of rich gold hair at the door before it was quietly closed. As he stretched in the bed and yawned he realized the bed was warm next to him as if someone else had lain there.

A confused recollection of being carried in his sleep by Glorfindel hit him, but he couldn't determine if it was a dream or reality. He hoped it had been a dream for otherwise it meant he had in fact held Glorfindel's hand all night long. If that was true, he could never ever look at him again. "What kind of fool am I?" he kept chiding himself. And yet, a small voice whispered in his mind "You didn't make him stay. It was of his own free will." Soon these thoughts vanished as he realized this was the morning of the Council and although he was not invited he had to make sure someone was there to look out for Mr. Frodo. Not that Mr. Bilbo wouldn't, but the he wasn't as young as he used to be and his long friendship with the elves might cloud his judgment. Not that he thought the Elves meant any harm to Mr. Frodo, but one could never be too careful, could they?

So he sat in a dark corner behind a statue and listened. The floor was cold and he was starting to get really famished and they were nowhere near a decision when he heard Frodo saying he would carry the ring to its destruction.

His voice was no louder than a whisper and it broke Sam's heart to think he would have to carry that foul, evil burden once again and the perils that implied. He sprung up and did what he had to, not thinking of the consequences of being caught listening to a private council.

Fortunately Lord Elrond allowed it to go unpunished and even joked about it. As he looked to the Lord of Imladris he glimpsed Glorfindel behind him, who sported a little smile and a look that mixed respect and approval but not surprise, but to Sam it was just enigmatic.

Despite it, Sam felt warm and grateful for that smile, almost as much as he felt joyous for being so easily allowed to continue with Mr. Frodo, and worried for all the dangers and hardships ahead.

After the initial euphoria and discussions with the other hobbits the peace of Rivendell entered their souls once again and two months flew quickly by. During the first of these months Sam managed to avoid Glorfindel, keeping mostly to Frodo's side and avoiding at any cost thinking about that night. Shame burned his ears and cheeks whenever he let his guard down, but underneath the embarrassment there was something else Sam wasn't ready to approach just yet.

Glorfindel didn't made things easier for him, for after the council he had shown an overt interest in Sam's person, trying to engage him in conversation; in all the few times Sam wasn't able to escape, he was met with furious blushes and impervious silence.

Sam knew Elrond would chose other companions to protect his master but he was torn between the desire of having Glorfindel with them and the fear that his close companionship would only bring him more opportunities to humiliate himself and show the elf what an incredibly big fool he was.

Many times Glorfindel gave him reassuring smiles and nods even after the failed attempts to start a conversation, for he understood Sam was over conscious. He did want to deepen his acquaintance with Sam. He had observed him almost constantly. He felt a bizarre, almost annoying curiosity for the hobbit and the more he got to know him the more his fierce loyalty to Frodo seduced him.

Glorfindel felt more than curiosity and admiration. He began to feel endearment. He wanted to protect the hobbit, even when he realized the hobbits fierceness was part of what drew him, but he rationalized this sheltering need with the resemblance of the hobbit to a child.

Not often in his long life had Glorfindel felt confused by the behaviour of others, but Sam puzzled him. Surely, he mused once more, the perian couldn't be in love with him. Not with his heart thoroughly filled with love for Frodo and the Shire.

* * *

After a month of this silent dance Glorfindel decided to act. He was determined to befriend the hobbit and clear the air between them. Middle-earth could not afford a deeply disturbed member on the quest, he kept saying to justify his actions to himself.

After dinner he watched as the halfling sneak away, and before he reached the stairs Glorfindel caught him and asked him for a walk in the gardens.

Sam was appalled but had not the heart or the will to avoid Glorfindel's blunt request. They walked in silence for a long time. Glorfindel led them away from the main house and from the other buildings in a deliberate effort to guarantee the hobbit would not have a close-by escape, and that they had some privacy.

Glorfindel finally came to a halt and asked Sam to sit on a stone bench not unlike the one Sam had fallen asleep. Even seated side by side with the elf Sam was almost calm after many silent coercions.

Now that he had the hobbit alone, Glorfindel felt quite unsure of how to begin or if he should begin at all. The warmth radiating from the hobbit was starting to make his side tingle and he found himself feeling like an elfling on the verge of his first love. Silly notion.

Unexpectedly Sam broke the silence. "I must apologize. I have been very rude." He lowered his gaze and as the elf kept silent, he felt his guess was correct and the elf had called him to correct his behaviour so he made another effort. "I mean no harm, I just can't help myself. You make me feel strange. Uh I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I mean..."

Sam was agonizing at his own ineptitude when a very surprised Glorfindel placed his hand on his wrist and said, "You needn't apologize Sam. May I call you Sam?"

Sam nodded, stunned.

Silence returned, but the bodily contact was not broken. Glorfindel couldn't force himself to let go and Sam certainly did not want him to. They were both in awe. Slowly Glorfindel turned to face Sam.

He squeezed Sam's hand and forced himself to ask "Dear Sam, I've watched you befriend so many of our kind in your shy, quiet way and yet not me. Why do I make you uneasy?"

Sam couldn't bring himself to reply but managed to raise his eyes to Glorfindel's, then quickly averted them. Glorfindel reached for Sam's chin with his other hand. His intention was merely to turn the hobbit's face to him, but he kissed him instead. This night was going to be full of surprises if even he, after millennia practicing self-control, was acting like an elfling on his first moonlight stroll.

Sam was in awe. The thing he most hoped and least expect had just happened. For a moment contradictory thoughts raced wildly through his head, but there was only one thing he was sure: he wanted more. He reached out and pecked Glorfindel's lips, hoping madly he hadn't regretted the first kiss.

Glorfindel wasn't sure what reaction to expect, but his heart leapt with joy at Sam's decision. He cupped Sam's face and pursued his lips for another kiss. This one was not quick and tentative as the first ones. It was slow and tender. It was Sam's first proper kiss. It was Glorfindel's first kiss after millennia of solitude. He had forgotten how good it felt to be this close to someone but couldn't surrender completely to he kiss, for he felt the need to talk things through. An elf did not take lovers lightly, and least of all him. If this was going to be the case - as fond as he had become of Sam - the fact was they were strangers and needed further acquaintance. Besides, he could tell the hobbit had no great experience in matters of the heart either. These ramblings made him stop the kiss slowly.

Sam looked disappointed. He lowered his gaze once more. Glorfindel still held his hand and felt him shudder. The confusion in Sam's face made him lean for another kiss. He meant it to be chaste, but when he did it was all but that. It was a kiss deeper than before and seemingly endless. It became deeper and deeper. They felt caught in a vortex. Glorfindel embraced Sam and straddled him on his lap. He could feel the hobbit's arousal pressing in his stomach as he clung to his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair, still kissing him hungrily.

Things were getting out of hand and quickly but all of Glorfindel's previous thoughts were fading from his mind. All he needed right now was to melt into Sam's arms. He broke the kiss once more and started to trail Sam's jaw with small kisses from the corner of his lip to just below his ear. He nuzzled in the hobbit's neck and hugged him even tighter. He smelled so good.

By now is own arousal was pressing beneath his leggings, deliciously stimulated by Sam's moving buttocks. Sam was panting softly and rubbing himself slightly on his stomach while he too kept delivering small kisses in every inch of skin Glorfindel had uncovered. He couldn't believe what was happening, but though he dared not hope for anything, he intended to seize the moment as he had never, ever felt like that before. He was also scared because he wanted to please the elf, but had no experience in such matters. He gathered up the courage and asked almost soundlessly in Glorfindel's ear. "I know not what to do. Please show me."

Glorfindel's heart almost stopped from hearing such vulnerability and such generosity in the hobbit's voice. So unlike that of the one whose wretched shadow that had haunted him too long. He was not thinking about that now. No, he was going to make sweet love to Sam, that fascinating, soft, warm, tender creature the Valar had sent his way.

He lifted them up and carried Sam to a grove opposite the bench in three large steps. He knelt and laid Sam on the ground softly. He would take the lead and give him all this intense warmness pouring like honey from his heart. He started undressing the hobbit and though inexperienced Sam picked up the lead and sat up taking off some of his clothes too.

By now Sam was naked and writhing and Glorfindel had only his leggings. He didn't want to scare the hobbit but it was Sam that undid the laces and pulled them down. The cool night air on his erection made him gasp but Sam closed the distance and pressed against him.

Everything about Sam was perfect. He could feel steel, hardworking muscles beneath the skin, and yet he was so soft and warm Glorfindel feared he would get lost in him. They lay down on the moss.

Sam's kisses pierced him through the core of his soul and lit a fire that he thought was long and permanently quenched. The hobbit's hands were timidly beginning to explore. He could feel the calluses of the palms running up and down his back. The harshness was welcomed, though. It sent tingles down his spine. He began trailing down kisses from Sam's collarbone to his firm pectorals.

Sam lifted his head and caressed Glorfindel's hair and his ear while the elf kept lapping his nipples and making him unbearably excited. As he trailed further down Sam gasped and let his head fall down once more. Glorfindel's hand on his inner thigh, his mouth on his navel, so close to his erection, it was all just too much, a sweet torture. The elf glowed much more intensely than Sam had ever seen him before.

When Glorfindel took him into his mouth he came after two touches of that skilled tongue. The elf swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry", they said almost in unison after Sam had quieted. Glorfindel smiled but Sam didn't. He felt he had let the elf down and cursed his body for it.

Glorfindel apologized once more. "I am sorry. I should have been less eager and let you enjoy this for a while longer." As he cuddled closer Sam whispered almost in tears "No, I'm the one to apologize".

Glorfindel shushed him with a kiss but Sam couldn't help being concerned with not having retributed the pleasure received. He tried to touch the elf's glistening erection, but Glorfindel held his hand. "No need for that", he whispered as he kissed Sam once more, but couldn't help himself, and kept brushing ever so lightly Sam's thigh. He didn't want to pressure the hobbit and make this experience unpleasant, frightening or shameful, but he was in dire need of release.

Sam kissed him back and as the kiss deepened he felt himself growing impossibly hard again.

"I see the periannath are indeed resilient creatures." Glorfindel's slight mocking embarrassed Sam but this discomfiture was quickly washed away with more enthusiastic kisses.

Sam reached his hand down again, but this time Glorfindel didn't stop him. He moved to straddle Glorfindel's waist and kissed him on the lips once more. As he moved down to his nipples, Glorfindel's eyes sparkled with pleasure and amusement. If ever there was a good student it was certainly Sam.

Sam was determined to make the elf enjoy himself so he moved down and as he did so Glorfindel's erection brushed his naked buttocks sending a shiver through both of them. After the briefest pause Sam pushed down a little so that its tip caressed his testicles. As Glorfindel moaned he guessed he was on the right track and slid further down making full contact of their erections. With a hand on Glorfindel's taut abdomen for support and the other on their erections Sam rode him till they both were sweating tough the night was far from hot. Glorfindel had one hand on their erections and the other on his hip. At each move his hand slid further cupping Sam's buttock and sending shivers of pleasure up his spine.

Glorfindel needed a closer contact desperately so he pulled Sam to lie on top of him, but now movement was difficult so he turned just a bit. Now, side by side, he kissed Sam deeply and continued stroking his erection as did Sam. Sam draped a leg over Glofindel's hip. Their moves were growing erratic and their breeding a heavy panting.

It wasn't long before Glorfindel shuddered and found release. Sam followed him almost immediately, for the strokes Glorfindel gave him as he came were so hard, almost painful.

They both knew there would be some need for talking, much awkwardness and insecurity to deal with, but in that moment silence and a bed of moss were all they needed. They cuddled in silence and Sam fell asleep, exhausted and sated. Glorfindel lay by his side, looking at his peaceful sleep and wondering how he had fallen in love so quickly with a hobbit he hardly knew. This was not mere lust. What he felt came first from his heart and only then from his loins.

As the night grew colder the chill woke Sam. Glorfindel handed him his clothes gently and dressed himself. "We should return. Promise me we will talk about this in the morning. Do not shy away from me as before."

Sam nodded, but the mention of the morrow bleached the peaceful feeling from his heart.

* * *

"Are you well?" Glorfindel's voice startled Sam. After some sleep and some breakfast he had strolled to the gardens, needing solitude. He had come to think that the last night had been a mistake, yet one he couldn't regret. The elf surely was only curious. Now he had seen what a hobbit felt like he would surely not bother to approach him anymore, so Glorfindel's sudden appearance was more than he had hoped for.

"What does this mean?" The question slipped his lips without previous reasoning.

"If you mean the question, it means that I worry for you, that I care. If you mean this whole thing, the truth is I don not know either. I do know that I had not felt like this in millennia, though."

Glorfindel's answer left Sam speechless. After a while they resumed conversation, first tentatively, then soul baring. Sam spoke of the Shire, of Frodo, of Rosie and of his Old Gaffer. He discovered someone in himself that he did not know before. Glorfindel spoke of things buried deep, unspoken for so long and the sorrow left him as the words did.

They spent the following month seeking refuge in gardens and shadows, talking, making love, exploring each other in possible every way. When the time came to leave Rivendell, Elrond's choice for the elf representative came as no surprise for Sam, for he knew how important Glorfindel's presence was in Rivendell, but it was still disappointing. At the same time it was a relief of sorts, knowing he was not away from danger - that would be impossible - but at least from Mordor. The very thought of entering Mordor chilled him but he would keep the promise to Gildor, out of love for his dear Frodo and out of love for Glorfindel. He would make him proud.

* * *

**Minas Tirith, Third Age 3019**

It was over. It was over. Finally. He had survived the darkness of Moria and the loss of Gandalf. He had passed the test of the Lady Galadriel, even when he thought he would die of shame for she knew his deeds and inner thoughts and the secret love he harboured. He had survived months in the company if that filthy Gollum through the worst places he had ever seen. He had overcome the temptation of that malignant One Ring. He had survived Mount Orodruin. He had done that out of love for Frodo, who needed him more each dreadful day that passed on the road. The strength to do it, however, had come from his love for Glorfindel. He had stopped questioning why. That was not important, not anymore. If he never lived to see him once more it still had all been worth it.

Sam felt his eyes sting with tears of joy but he never shed them. Now was a time for healing and rejoicing and hopefully forgetting. He could not, however. There were memories that would haunt him to the end of his days, but he would gather the strength to keep them at bay. Musing on these thoughts as he strayed from the other hobbits.

Despite what had happened in Imladris he didn't expect that Glorfindel would seek him and he did not want to impose, so he avoided the elves as much as he could. The thought that Glorfindel knew he had not cowered, and had helped Frodo as much as he could until the end, was enough to keep him warm.

Thus, the night he found Glorfindel waiting him in his room he was shocked. Shocked and pleased and then insecure again.

"Would you have avoided me until your departure?" Glorfindel thought he understood the hobbit's motives. He was still a young boy and had gone through so much, but he had not intention of letting go. Not now. Not after millennia waiting for love.

"No. Yes. You're right, but I didn't want to impose" Sam lowered his gaze, sheepishly.

"You could never do so. Do I impose?" Glorfindel was now dangerously near Sam and could see the crimson spreading through his face.

"Never." Sam dove into Glorfindel's embrace.

* * *

**Valinor, Fourth Age 61**

There on the shores of Valinor were Frodo, Gandalf, Elrond, the Lady Galadriel, and many other elves he did not know, but who had come to greet him and welcome him. He could not find one particular shade of gold in the crowd, though. He felt his heart clench. He hoped Glorfindel would meet him despite the years that had passed.

The ship landed and he leapt to the pier. Frodo buried him in an embrace and they could not speak for several minutes. Tears streaked their cheeks and when they finally parted Frodo uttered a very emotional "welcome old friend".

Slowly Bilbo came forth and embraced Sam too and then the Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond too came to greet him with kind, welcoming smiles. Sam was deeply touched that they had come for him, but he could not forsake the disappointment sting of not seeing Glorfindel there.

"Worry not, little friend." The deep voice of Galadriel in his mind startled him, and smiled knowingly as she made way for Glorfindel. Sam almost collapsed with joy, but restrained himself and greeted Glorfindel formally. Elrond smiled and conducted everybody to Círdan's home, breaking the deeply poignant moment.

* * *

After the welcoming dinner that night, Glorfindel asked him for a walk in the gardens. Frodo was about to propose to join them, but Elrond silently stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Frodo looked puzzled, but then so many small episodes started to come together in his mind. The mysterious disappearances in Minas Tirith, later in the Shire, the short trips supposedly to gather plants that abruptly stopped after the first boats of elves left Middle-earth, the sudden maturity that overcame him after Rivendell, the silence that took Sam whenever Glorfindel was spoken of.

Frodo sat back and glanced at Elrond. "How long did you know?"

Elrond smiled and said, "As long as you have, really. I just was able to see it more clearly."

"I am truly happy for him, then. For them both." They smiled.

* * *

In the garden Sam walked slowly, slightly behind Glorfindel, remembering a distant night in Imladris. He couldn't help but smile at the found memory, one of many he had cherished through the years.

"Sam, will you not speak to me after a lifetime apart? Have I faded from your heart?" Glorfindel spoke softly, in an ambiguous tone. Sam was not certain he jested or was truly hurt by his silence.

"Lord Glorfindel" he started, but was swiftly interrupted.

"Why such formality? We were once friends. We were more than that I should say. I would understand if you relinquished that kind of closeness, but not the friendship. Surely that has survived in your heart." Glorfindel was keeping his voice controlled, but for one that had known him so well and had thought of him for a lifetime, there were undisguisable notes of pain in it.

Glorfindel had stopped and they now faced each other.

"It was never my intention to be cold or push you away". Sam raised his hand to touch Glorfindel's. "You may have left Middle-earth but not my heart."

"So you still have feelings for me? Do you remember the love we once shared?" Glorfindel sounded wildly relieved.

"Your love kept me sane. It made me a better person. It carried me through loss and heartbreak. Whenever the downhill race seemed endless all I had to do was think of you, of what you gave me, of what we shared. For you I was a better friend, a better husband and a better father."

Glorfindel tried to stop Sam's rambling but was cut short.

"Shhh, let me say it all. I've only waited my whole life to tell you this. Your love kept me from quitting, from shattering, from faltering. I do not expect us to be lovers like once we were. I do realize mortality bears heavy upon me and though I know you are the kindest, most generous being I'll ever find, I do not wish your pity. Just friendship, like once you gave a young, scared, dazzled hobbit." Sam gulped the tears that were forming and dared not raise his eyes to Glorfindel, even when he lifted his chin with his index finger.

"Do not shy away from me. It is true your body has aged - we both knew that would happen. I loved your soul then, as I do now. We both know I had no choice but to leave, but I do want to know what time has made of you. And the love I felt, still feel, for you as not faded so much that I do not remember how good it felt to touch you."

Sam raised his eyes, half in disbelief, half in hope. Glorfindel continued.

"If you want friendship you shall have it, but remember we do not have much time left before we take separate paths forever, so let us not waste it." He lowered his head and kissed the hobbit on the lips. As he caressed Sam's cheek, he felt the long-kept tears rolling down the trails time, joy and sorrow had left on his face.

He buried Sam in the tightest embrace he could. "Shh, melethron, our lives may be filled with sorrow, but let me show you joy once more."

Sam slowly stopped sobbing and returned the embrace. Through all the years in the Shire he felt happy, blissful even. The hardship and the joy he shared with his friends rebuilding the Shire and later with Rosie and his children were precious gifts and there was always the warmness of Glorfindel's memory. Yes, he had been happy, but this was different. Now he felt whole. This felt right.

 

_Finis  
April 2004_


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